


Last Christmas (I gave you my heart)

by TheStrange_One



Series: 12 Days of Christmas [1]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas, Emotions, M/M, bad planning, mentioned Nathan Summers, mentioned Vanessa/Copycat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:20:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21769768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStrange_One/pseuds/TheStrange_One
Summary: On the first day of Christmas, my True Love gave to me--A cute Spideypool story.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Series: 12 Days of Christmas [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1568926
Comments: 16
Kudos: 68





	Last Christmas (I gave you my heart)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AngelaLives](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelaLives/gifts).



> No, I don't know if I'll get all twelve days, but I'm going to try!

Peter blinked when he came in. His first thought was that he’d entered the wrong apartment by mistake. Did he? Is that what happened? He stepped out, looked at the numbers again, and frowned. He was in the right apartment.

When he’d left that morning, the apartment had been decorated for Christmas. There had been garland hanging in loops near the ceiling, a tree (fake, because it had been free and was still in good condition) that had been decorated with ornaments, tinsel, and more garland. Red and green nets of fairy lights had been hung on the walls in alternating patterns under the garlands. There had even been stockings, with his and Wade’s names on them, hung by the tree. MJ had come over to help him set it up.

It was all gone. The tree, the garlands, the fairy lights, the stockings—even the little removable clips they’d gotten so they could hang the garlands without damaging the walls (Wade might not care about the security deposit, but Peter did). There was no trace, no _hint_ of Christmas left in the apartment.

Now that he was getting used to the sight of all the decorations being gone, he could hear something. Something soft and whimpering, like someone trying not to cry. Or, more likely, like  _Wade_ trying not to be heard crying.

What had happened? What was wrong? “Wade?” he called out in concern as he walked into the apartment (not forgetting to lock the door behind him;  _that_ had been a memorable evening he didn’t want to relive). The soft sounds stopped. “Wade, are you all right?”

Peter opened the door to the bedroom—and stared in shock for a moment. The decorations had all been moved into this room, and they were trashed. The garlands cut to shreds, the tree violently ripped apart, the stockings torn into pieces. In the middle of the mess sat Wade, curled up as small as he could make himself, and slightly rocking back and forth.

Had they been attacked? Was that what had happened?  He didn’t  _think_ any of their enemies knew about the new apartment, but maybe they hadn’t been as careful as they should have been. “Wade?” he tried again. He began to wade through the mess. “What happened?” he asked in concern. He reached out to touch his boyfriend on the shoulder.

He was shocked when Wade  _flinched away_ . “ Wade?” he asked.

Wade was wearing the bright red hoodie he usually wore when he wasn’t in the suit, so Peter could see that his eyes were pressed tightly closed as tears leaked between the lids. After a moment  Wade whispered something and Peter leaned closer so he could hear. “I don’t want to break up.”

Break up? Where would Wade get an idea like that. “Did Tony say something?” Peter asked, confused.

“You decorated. For Christmas.”

Peter blinked. Wade enthusiastically celebrated  _every_ holiday—they’d had two Thanksgivings this year for both American  _and_ Canadian Thanksgiving. “I thought you liked Christmas,” Peter said hesitantly.  Wade liked  _every_ holiday. Peter still remembered the horror when Wade had expected him to celebrate National Hot Dog Day. And how. He hadn’t been able to eat hot dogs for three months.

Wade, impossibly, curled up more and made himself smaller. “Everyone leaves at Christmas,” he whispered.

“Oh, Wade,” said Peter. He got into the center of the debris and crouched down. Then he stood up again because ouch—fake pine needles hurt when sat on. He moved the branch out of the way and crouched down again before he reached out and gently grabbed Wade’s shoulder. “Wade, Honey, look at me.” Hesitantly, and shaking with almost sobs, Wade opened his bright blue eyes and looked at Peter as fresh tears spilled down his cheeks. “I’m not breaking up with you,” Peter said firmly. “I thought you liked Christmas, so while you were out I had MJ come by and help me decorate for it. I thought you’d like that.”

Wade’s eyes searched his face. “You—don’t want to break up?” he asked.

Peter leaned forward and kissed Wade on the forehead. “Never,” he said. He gave a gentle kiss to Wade’s nose. “Ever.” A long, chaste kiss to the lips, “Ever.”

“So you’re—not leaving? Or asking me to leave?” asked Wade. His voice shook.

Peter, who knew that Wade sometimes needed to have information delivered repeatedly before it took, said, “Of course not. I told you, I love you.” He kissed his boyfriend again, relieved that the man was starting to uncurl.

“But you—you decorated. For Christmas,” Wade repeated.

Peter simultaneously cursed himself for not realizing that Christmas was, apparently, a triggering event for Wade’s depression and yelled at himself demanding to know how he could possibly have known. This was their first Christmas together! “I thought it would make you happy,” he said again.

“Happy?” Wade stared at him as though he’d gone crazy.

“Wade, you got me up at six in the morning—just two hours _after_ patrol—wearing a bright yellow wiener hat with yellow fishnet stockings _over_ your suit to tell me it was time to celebrate National Hot Dog Day,” Peter said wryly. “I didn’t think you’d hate Christmas.”

Wade looked down and was silent for a moment. “I don’t hate Christmas,” he said. “It’s just—I was gone, and I came back and the apartment was decorated and it was like—like I wasn’t here anymore.”

“I’m sorry Wade,” Peter said as he hugged his boyfriend. “I thought it’d be a happy surprise for you.” He thought for a moment. Wade had said he didn’t hate Christmas, what he’d hated was coming back and finding the apartment decorated. Now, Peter had no idea why that was, but he had an idea on how to make Wade feel better “Why don’t we both decorate?” he asked. He looked at the shredded mess that they didn’t have the resources to replace, and added, “It won’t look anything like it did, but it’ll be done by the two of us. What do you say?”

Wade reached up and pulled him down for a heated kiss. “Sounds amazing,” he breathed into Peter’s still gaping mouth.

Wade’s first relationship hadn’t gone well. After discovering that Vanessa was Copycat, the two had lived together for a while. Wade had been over the moon. Discovering the love of his life had the power to protect herself and wasn’t afraid to use them? The best thing ever!

He’ll never forget the day he came home from a long job to see their little home all decorated with Christmas cheer—only for her to tell him, “It’s been fun playing house Wade, but it’s time for you to go now.”

Wade had moved on. He’d met a sweet, pretty young woman in Mexico and he’d fallen hard. They’d had to live in the middle of nowhere, because she was being hunted by a cartel, but he’d thought they were happy. Until he got home one day, after cleaning up the last of the cartel, to find the house decorated with as much Christmas as could be found.

He’ll never forget the cold look in her eyes when she turned and said, “See this? This is sweet and pretty. You know what doesn’t belong? You.”

His heart broke again, but he’d thought he had a good thing going with Nate. Palling around, bouncing between timelines, occasionally trying to kill each other—it had been fun. And never boring. Then he’d gotten home one day to find the place decorated for Christmas. Which he’d thought was odd, since Nate didn’t even  _celebrate_ Christmas (or any other holiday for that matter). He’d looked, hoping to be wrong, but Nate had simply glared at him with his one organic eye as he crossed his arms and said, “You know what this means.”

Then, years later, he’d come home from a mission to find that Peter had decorated for Christmas. Peter, who loved more than breathing. Peter, who had always seemed happy with him. Peter, that he couldn't imagine life without.

A crazy idea had gotten in his head then. What if he  _destroyed_ the decorations? Would it change fate? Would Peter stay? He had been so prepared for Peter to tell him to leave…

But Peter didn’t. Peter simply suggested they decorate—together. That they celebrate—together.

Wade paused in taking up a little star he’d made from a shredded silver garland to blurt, “I love you.” 

Peter simply looked over with a warm smile from where he was making his own art out of the shredded tree. “I love you too.”


End file.
